Everyone called Maxwell "Max," and that's what we'll call him here. A sweet guy, who did alright in school but was not a star at academics, or sports, or anything for that matter, he decided that at 22, he should "see the world." His older brother, Ronald, (whom we'll call "Ron"), was much sharper, and much more on top of things. Their parents begged, pleaded, and finally paid Ron to travel with his brother.
Max and Ron were fortunate to have parents who doted on them, and had no problem supporting their sons. "They'll come into their own sooner or later," was something his mom was known to say when friends asked, politely, about a 22 year old and a 25 year old living at home, and essentially doing nothing but spending their time on line. Their father was all in favor of the trip, but he was not going to spend the money to give them a luxurious trip. Instead, he gave them a bare bones budget, transferred half the money to Max and half of it to Ron, wished them godspeed, and one Saturday afternoon, they set off.
The money that their father had given them meant that pricier cities like Venice and Paris were not in the cards, but cities and countries "off the beaten track" were fair game. They probably visited at least 8 countries whose names ended in -stan, and it was in one of them that Max lost his cell phone. He had no idea how he had lost it. Had his backpack been picked? It didn't seem so: everything else was there. Had it fallen out of his pocket when they were traveling in a third class compartment of a rail train from one city to another? Quite possible. However it happened, it did, and it sent Max into an immediate funk: if he were good at nothing else, Max took excellent photographs. He had been snapping shots since the day they left, and now... he was bereft. "Max, it'll be ok. Once we get to the hotel, we'll ask the desk where you can get one." "Yeah, right," Max answered. "We haven't met anyone who speaks English on this whole trip. How the hell are we gonna get me a phone?" It was much easier than he thought. After they had checked into their hotel, on the outskirts of a very old city that had somewhat of a sinister air about it, Ron held his cell phone out to the desk clerk. He made the universal symbol of indicating he wanted to buy something (he put his hand to his pocket, and pantomimed counting out money). The desk clerk smiled and wrote down a name and an address. "Now closed. Tomorrow. After 11." And so, the next day, Ron and Max called for one of the many taxis that seemed to patrol the area, and handed the driver the paper with the address on it. The driver seemed a bit non plussed. "Is correct?" he asked. Max shook his head yes. The driver shrugged his shoulders. "You pay, I wait. Too dangerous to get back." And off he went. As they got closer to their destination, Ron began to agree with the driver. The city, which was not well off in any zone, got darker and seedier. He pulled up in front of a storefront that looked less than promising. "If we wind up at Hogwarts, it's your fault" Ron whispered to Max. He pulled out some of the currency that was used in the country, and the driver smiled. "I wait. You pay" . He put the cab in idle, and the boys went into the store. It was charming, scary, dark and mysterious all at the same time. "AMERICANS! Not many of you come in here!" A gray haired very fat man exclaimed behind the counter. "I think the last time I saw an American in here was... OH, I can't even remember. " "You speak English. You speak PERFECT English!" Ron answered, and the man shook his head. "I lived in the US for fifteen years when I was younger. I was a student." "Really? Where?" Max asked and the store owner gave a far-away look. "Oh, the school has been closed for years. Not important anymore. I came home. Mother needed me. So, how can I help you gentlemen?" "Well, we want to buy a phone", Ron continued. When Max began to say he had lost his, Ron stepped on his foot to keep him quiet, not that it mattered. "We're staying at...." and Ron tried to get out the name of the hotel, which had far too many consonants and far too few vowels for him to pronounce correctly. "And the desk clerk sent us here." "AH, yes. Vladimir. He is my cousin you know." "No, we didn't know." "Let me see. I have several. He sent you because I will give you the best price." He reached under the counter and took out three boxes. Each had a number on it. Both Max and Ron had learned how the prices of anything could be converted to American dollars very easily. They were nearly finished with their trip, so they bought the least expensive one. "This is a very good phone. It is cheap because...." and he leaned over and whispered "it was made by a man who went mad shortly after he had made it. It's said that he had manufactured twelve of them. This is supposed to be the last one. "Does it take photos?" Max asked. That's all he was interested in. He hadn't called anyone since their trip had started: his best friend was with him "OH YES. I think...." and again, the owner leaned forward "I think you will find that your photos will have an almost magical look about them. You're making the right choice. Of the three, this one takes the best photos. The others are better for communication, but you'll be happy with this one. " They thanked the man, and stepped outside. The cab was still waiting for them, and they were glad. It seemed to get dark very early in this city, and the clouds were moving in. "One second, Ron. Let me try the camera function." The store owner had kept the phone charged, so there was no problem with using it for photos. Again, that was all Max cared about. Throughout the rest of their trip, he never used anything BUT the camera function. If he needed to make a call, he used Ron's phone. There was a bird in the region that they had never seen in the US. They had been given its name, and had written it down, but when they tried to google it, they came up with no equivalent. It was, however, a beautiful bird which looked somewhat like a cross between a peacock and a sea gull. "It IS a good photo Ron. LOOK." Ron took the phone from Max. "You're right. Beautiful. Almost as pretty as the bird." The driver brought them back to the hotel, and Ron thanked him profusely, tipping him way more than was traditional. As the driver left, he laughed to himself. "Cosmo has unleashed something. Let's see how they handle it." Max prevailed upon Ron to go for a walk after they had gotten a quick lunch of mystery meat and potato dumplings, and as they strolled, he took photo after photo after photo. That night, after they had had dinner and were trying to find something on the television that they could understand (they found reruns of "Wild Wild West," which reminded Ron that he had been cut off from the porn sights he loved at home for weeks. Jim West, without his shirt on, was some compensation for that). As Ron watched Jim West be captured, tied up and tormented before he escaped, Max went through the photos. "That bird! So beautiful. I wish I had one of its feathers to bring home." There was a noise at the window of their hotel room: a loud BANG, as if something very big had thrown itself against the window. Max got up. "RON... Can you come here for a minute? I think... I think that bird we saw this afternoon is on the window sill." Ron came over. "GEEZ. If that's not the same bird, it's his twin brother. You think it followed us?" "I dunno. I was just looking at the photos and I wished for a feather and then...." He tapped on the window, but the bird wasn't going away. "Maybe we have to shoo it ." Ron opened the window and instead of flying off, the bird hopped into their room. It didn't look frightened at all, but totally at home. "Max, this is very weird. VERY weird. " "I know. What the? Did it follow us?" As they were talking, the bird dropped a feather from a wing, and then flew off through the opened window. "THAT may be the strangest thing that happened on this trip, Max. " "I know. I know. I got my feather, but..." They went to bed that night, filled with thoughts and dreams about what had happened. In Ron's dream, he saw the storekeeper. "The phone is intended for YOU, Ron," a voice said. "You're lonely. Do something about it." Ron woke out of the dream wondering what it meant. The man in the dream WAS right. He WAS lonely: he missed being home, missed the fantasy rooms, missed being able to jerk off in the privacy of his own room: all of it. The dream left an idea in his head though. The next day, at breakfast, they were served by a waiter who had taken care of them earlier in their stay. Wozzeck was not very tall, but he had big muscular arms, beautiful blond hair, and pale green eyes. Ron thought it was probably to get a good tip, which the waiter (his name tag said Wozzeck), got from him, but the idea in his head came through loud and clear. "Max, maybe you could take a photo of Wozzeck and I?" "Oh, sure. No problem. " They waited for Wozzeck to come by. He smiled his broad, white smile and needed very little persuading to pose with Ron. That night, when Max was showering, Ron picked up the phone, and brought up the photo of he and Wozzeck. "Wish he were sleeping with me tonight," he said. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on their room door. It was Wozzeck, out of uniform and in street clothes. "Ron? I stay here tonight?" he asked. Max came out of the bathroom. "Ron? Who's here?" He was naked and he saw Wozzeck. "Did you call him Ron? I mean, I know it's been tough, but... we'll be home soon." "Max, we have to talk tomorrow. For now... I'll try not to make too much noise. " There was a small sitting area apart from the main section of their hotel room, and Max went off to look at his photos. He had taken one of a stray cat that day. "You're beautiful. I hope you have a place to stay tonight. " He heard a "meow" at the door, and there was the cat. She walked in as if she owned the place. Max had a bit of bread and some cheese left over from a sandwich in his backpack, and he held it out for her. The cat was not shy, and she took the food before she curled up in Max' lap and began to purr. Max fell asleep with the cat in his lap, while Ron and Wozzeck went at it in the main room. When the boys woke up the next morning, Wozzeck was gone, and so was the cat. Nothing seemed to be missing. "Ron, this is very, VERY weird," Max overstated the obvious. "I know. It seems that.. Well, it seems that if we take a photo, we can summon whoever or whatever is in the picture." Max began to laugh. "And people say I'M the weird one." "You have a better explanation, kid?" "I dunno. Coincidence?" Ron laughed. "Yeah right. Like a cat got past the front desk with Vladimir there. Like Wozzeck just decided to offer himself to me. Like the bird just showed up." "Should we maybe... go by the store tomorrow?" "That may be a good idea. Do you have the address?" "No, I gave that paper to the driver." "No problem. We'll get it from Vladimir tomorrow. Except Vladimir wasn't at the desk the next day. And they were leaving that night. They asked for a car to take them to the airport. It was the same driver, and Ron tried to communicate with him, but the driver seemed to either be faking ignorance, or he really and truly did not know what Ron was talking about. The brothers tried the phone in each of the next three countries they visited. In each case, the same thing happened that had happened where they bought the phone. Animals would come to Max, or there would be "specials" of food that he had liked and photographed, and if Ron saw a man he particularly liked, he'd have Max take a photo, and then they'd "summon" him that night. Over the rest of their stay, they figured out that their ability to summon the object of the photo was limited: geographically, it seemed to be 100 miles, and temporally, the power seemed to last for 24 hours. "This is all kind of weird Ron. When we get home, we're going to have to figure out what this is about." "You're right. " It was the last day of their trip. "But for tonight, I want to celebrate. Let me look at the photos of guys you took." Ron went through the photos, and said "I wish that boy were spending the night with me " to three different photos. Within 30 minutes, all three guys were in the hotel room, making it very difficult for Max to get some sleep. The brothers had decided that they needed to consult with an expert when they got home. This was all too strange. On the flight back, however, Ron began having other ideas: he wasn't very popular, and living at home meant his social life was somewhat limited, especially since he hadn't come out to his folks. The guys he had summoned on this trip were gorgeous: NONE of them would have given him the time of day . Ron chuckled to himself. "They'd probably charge me double if I tried to hire them." So, no, Ron decided he didn't want to give up the phone. IF it worked in the US. He'd have to try it. "I'll start asking if anyone knows anything Max. Let me take it for a while and I'll let you know what I find. " "NO! I know you too well Ron. You're gonna photo someone, and I know who it's gonna be." "WHO?" "That guy who lives down the block: the dark haired guy going to med school next year? You can't keep your eyes off him." Ron blushed. Max was right. "Listen. Just let me try it once. Just once." Max hesitated. "OK, but after that, we gotta tell mom and dad. " The guy who lived down the block was named Steve. He went for a run every morning: at least 5 miles, sometimes as many as ten. Ron was outside of their house when Steve ran by that morning. "Hey Ron. How was your trip?" "A really good one, Steve, thanks. Maybe we can chat about it sometime." "Yeah that'd be fun. I'd like to hear about those places, since I'm not gonna be doing much traveling for a while." Medical school was beginning for him in a month. "Hey, Steve, can I ask you for a favor? Max' phone is acting a bit off kilter. I want to show the dealer how the photos look. Would you mind?" There were many good things you could say about Steve. "He's humble" is not one of them. "You want me to take off my shirt, Ron?" He smiled. "Sure. Let's do it. I'll forward some to you too." Ron snapped away for a few minutes. He had about ten photos before Steve begged off to go on his run. That night, after dinner, the doorbell rang. "Steve! This is a surprise. What brings you here?" Ron's mother had answered the door to a well scrubbed, well dressed Steve. "Hi ma'am. I came by because Ron and Max were gonna show me photos of their trip. Is it ok if I come in?" "Of course." She rolled her eyes. "I hope you can put up with it, because .. they're obsessed with those photos." "Thank you ma'am. " She showed Steve to Ron's room. "Honey, you have a guest." Ron looked up to see Steve. "I'll leave the two of you to look at the photos. Ron, if you guys stay up, please try to be quiet when Steve goes home." "Yes mom. Thank you." When she left, Ron looked at Steve and smiled. Steve said "You wanna top or bottom?" "Top. I'm fucking you , future MD" "Ok. On my back or on my belly?" "On your back. Legs in the air." It worked in the US. Steve was gone by the next morning. And Ron decided that he was NOT giving up the phone. While all of this was happening, our shop keeper was speaking to friends who were in the US Friends who had attended the same sorcery school he had. "The phone is in the US. I can ping it. And it works. All you have to do is get it." His cousin smiled. He had plans for the phone, and his friend was right: all he had to do, was get it.